“Pancakes for Dinner.”
Three children, single Mom, lawn furniture in the living room and pancakes for dinner again.
After a 12-hour ICU shift, where I drank a pot of coffee to stay sharp, I drove home at 7:30 am with the window down to stay awake, I was thinking about my shift. One of my patients died that night and I was still remembering the family’s eyes filled with grief as I pulled into my garage spot. I hated this apartment, but it was all I could afford. I relieved my babysitter, a friend, thank goodness, she didn’t mind the occasional sleepover when I landed the rare registry shift.
I won’t discuss every minute of this day but jump to dinner and then the night. Dinner was homemade pancakes and eggs. Not because it was my children’s favorite, which it was, but because milk, flour, sugar, oil and eggs were all I could afford. Spaghetti was another one. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch at the duck pond was entertainment. Nighttime was when I planned. After the kids were asleep. How do I get out of this?
I was living in poverty.
Here is the hard truth. I never called it poverty. I’m not sure my mind ever let me know it was poverty. I always thought of it as a temporary situation. And my fault. I rarely asked for help from anyone. I never thought about public subsidized support, that I would have qualified for. But instead, I hid my situation from my family and friends the best I could.
I was prideful. I was a nurse. I should be able to be “fine”. I was not jobless. I managed an urgent care as a Clinical Director. My kids had clothes, went to school and had friends. I had a car and gas was cheap back then. Appearances are deceiving. The lawn furniture in the living room, until I could afford a couch, was laughed off as “no time to shop for a couch”. And my kids were 2,4 and 5. They had no idea about poverty.
I was a healthcare professional. A nurse and I was living in poverty and could not ask for help. But it was one of the most difficult times in my life and there are thousands of women living in poverty in healthcare careers.
STILL!
TODAY!
WHY?!
Next week I will be sharing a daily blog for seven days; the stories across my platforms of women like me. I will also include the unforgivable statistics about healthcare professionals living in poverty and the solutions that need to be considered.
If you would like to share your story, email me at info@POMwomen.com. Your name and identity can be confidential, but let’s get these stories out and help someone else.